


Ivan, By and Illyan

by cartesiandaemon



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:18:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5469614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cartesiandaemon/pseuds/cartesiandaemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Entirely inspired by karanguni's great Yuletide letter, I put all the suggestions together and it made an interesting fic! I hope you enjoy.</p>
<p>Set after Memory (you need to have read that). And before Civil Campaign (but will make sense without it). Not necessarily compatible with anything revealed later in Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen but may reference some things.</p>
<p>I tried to keep all the chronology straight, including character development (which is very relevant) and who knows what about whom when. But I made at least one major blooper in the middle of the story and can't change it without starting over from scratch. Really sorry, please try to cope with the fic as-is!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Ivan, By and Illyan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karanguni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karanguni/gifts).



> Entirely inspired by karanguni's great Yuletide letter, I put all the suggestions together and it made an interesting fic! I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Set after Memory (you need to have read that). And before Civil Campaign (but will make sense without it). Not necessarily compatible with anything revealed later in Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen but may reference some things.
> 
> I tried to keep all the chronology straight, including character development (which is very relevant) and who knows what about whom when. But I made at least one major blooper in the middle of the story and can't change it without starting over from scratch. Really sorry, please try to cope with the fic as-is!

**Ivan and By. After Memory, before Civil Campaign.**

Ivan was working on the comconsole in his bedroom at his mother's penthouse when Byerly lent round the door-frame, languidly hugging the wooden upright.

"And how are you enjoying a week locked up with Simon?" he drawled.

Ivan had been invited to stay at his mother's while his flat was being redecorated. While his mother was away. Which was better than alternative, but "Uncle" Simon was still there half the time, not at his own utilitarian retirement flat. Ivan huffed impatiently and saved his work. Long practice had taught him the longer he ignored By, the longer he was distracted for, and dragging it out didn't help.

"It's fine," he rapped out, at the last second trying to modulate his voice to sound sincere, but By was already oozing into the room and talking over him.

"I think it's odd for him too," By continued. "He's taking my dead drops while Your Lady Mother is away"

"Don't worry," he added, answering an objection Ivan hadn't been going to make, "I have friends in the building to cover my visits, I was never publicly intimate with your mother, even if we were both in the Vor social scene."

"What do you want, By?" Ivan considered a moment what question was most likely to unlock By's tongue. "How actually was Simon?"

By smiled. "The lord-high inquisitor of sarcasm was courteous, for the occasion. Downright convivial in fact. He offered me a drink or two. Pleasant conversation. He's Imp-sec after all, they can all be your best friend if they put forward some effort, even if that's now what Simon usually projected to us underlings."

Ivan rubbed his temples. Why could By never say what he actually meant? Reading between the lines, Simon had been his usual post-retirement friendly uncle self, which Ivan would have found perfectly pleasant if a little boring, if he hadn't been closer to an unwanted father than an uncle, and if he didn't have the power of impsec unused, but still fiercely loyal to him... But behind the ego-puncturing critique of his former boss, By seemed to be hinting something else. Ivan belatedly realised his cue.

"Several drinks? It's a bit early for him, isn't it." He dutifully lobbed the straight line.

"Oh yes, unusual but not unheard of," By trickled out. "When you're ImpSec you have to be aware of your vices, your own, your boss's, all the way up the chain... You never know when you need to defend your weak spots, or have counter-leverage against political manoeuvring. They say he has no vices, but it's not true. None illegal, none even really unwise or unsafe, but not none. He trusts your Uncle, and Gregor maybe, but he's scared of split loyalties, he finds it hard to trust again, ever. And God, he lets himself be sarcastic, he doesn't realise how much he can hurt us mere mortals. And he gets drunk, very occasionally, with people he trusts. It's probably healthy, but still..."

That was an accurate summation of Illyan, Ivan realised, though he might have described it in a more deferential way. By babbled on, but Ivan's mind was racing. Illyan wanted to drink? By hadn't said that, but if not, why had he said any of this? And he'd had some with By, By wasn't completely excluded from the inner circle. But he wanted to drink with... Ivan? Ivan's mind sheered away from the implications, but it's true, Simon had been mournful intermittently since his forced retirement, he didn't want to let him drink alone. Nor did he want to join his quasi-uncle, alas.

******

**Ivan and Simon. A few minutes later.**

"Ah, Ivan! Come in. How are you?"

Illyan sprawled discreetly on the sofa in the small reception room he kept for his use. Ivan's eyes flicked over the room, nothing out of place, a couple of whisky glasses on a small tray, when Illyan had been playing host to Ivan. But the bottle was back in the cabinet. And half empty. Had it been half-empty before? He couldn't remember.

He stalked cautiously into the room and settled in a small chair, trying to look casual. "Um, Simon. How are you?"

"By came by to drop off a dead-drop for headquarters. I can drop it off when I have lunch with-- well, I shouldn't bother you with the details." Illyan didn't show anything, but Ivan knew him well enough to know when he was hiding a twinkle. Not having the entire weight of the imperium on his back had been -- eventually -- good for him. "He probably dropped by your room on the way out," another non-twinkle.

Ivan let that pass in silence, his talking-to-senior-officers and talking-to-Miles habits rising to the fore, but Illyan continued unabashed. "Will you have a drink?"

Ivan waved assent, and Illyan busied himself pulling a clean glass out of the cabinet, and layout out the whisky bottle, and a couple of other nearly-full choices, before splashing a half-glass into his and Ivan's.

Sensing inevitability, Ivan dragged the glass to him and downed most of it. Illyan Wanted To Talk. That was ok. And he was right, if he was going to have another heart-to-heart with his um-uncle or um-father, a stiff drink was definitely appropriate.

After a few more drinks, they both started to relax. Only later did Ivan start considering if the act was half for him, that he quite enjoyed talking to Illyan, and with Illyan clearly doing something a bit stupid, Ivan felt considerably less nervous that he might suddenly Correct Ivan's Politics, or pass on questions from his mother on Will You Eventually Get Married or Why Wasn't He Living Up to His Potential.

There thankfully wasn't a repeat of Illyan's memorable confession the one previous time Ivan and seen him even drunker, of the unfortunately pornographic collected highlights of a career of surveillance tapes, stored inexorably in the chip in Illyan's head until it had passed on with the rest of his perfect recall. But they found shared ground, complaining about military bureaucracy -- despite the fact that that had been Illyan's entire job, apparently it was still exasperating. Cautiously sharing neutral good memories of Ivan's mother, and very carefully, minor criticisms. Illyan enthused about concerts and ballets Lady Alys had introduced him to, that he'd never had the inclinations to take in before, and Ivan discovered that a lifetime of pleasing his mother and impressing girlfriends had brought him to the point where he could converse engagingly on the subjects.

Illyan thrilled Ivan with declassified reminisces of military service, a narrow one or two from his own youth, when Barrayar had seemed even more "without adult supervision" than it did now, and from other anonymous agents. And he hinted at thrilling and embarrassing tales Miles had starred in, though he cautioned Ivan he could still talk about almost none of it.

Ivan tested the waters further with one of the personal questions he'd been not asking. "How are you coping without your chip?"

"It was so hard at first, I didn't know if I'd recover. But now, I have your mother, I go to the high society life, I can walk down the street and almost no-one recognises me," He took a deep breath. "I can sit in the library and read a book all through the day and I'm not interrupted by even one emergency. Since I retired, no-one's tried to kill me even once."

"And the service... Gregor, Guy, Racozy, they're all making it work. I always knew I needed to build a service which functioned without me, but I didn't have the nerve to test it until I had to. And it works! They're still learning, but they wouldn't have space to learn if I was still breathing down Guy's neck second guessing him. He's done ok. Gregor has blossomed even more since your father retired, I was proud to serve him."

"I wouldn't have found out if I hadn't retired. I'm glad someone else is handling the empire well." Illyan blossomed into a massive smile with his whole body. "Ivan, I'm happy. I never expected that."

In turn, Illyan probed a little at an even riskier spot. "Ivan, if it weren't for your mother pushing... do you want to get married one day?"

Ivan shrugged flippantly. "I guess so." He paused, meticulously waving his drinking glass. "No, that's not fair. I always assumed I would. Everyone does, you know? But I'm in the middle of my career, I really like dating people, I didn't think I would yet, not at 20, not at 30... But I guess maybe I'm getting closer to it. One of the Koudelka girls would be a perfect wife, you know?"

Illyan shook his head. "I think they will all remember you as the young lout you used to be. If it comes to it, try to match your marital ambition to your romantic ambition, no-one woman wants to be told, 'well, I guess she'll do' Not that I ever really... well, maybe, sort of, but not really".

Ivan's tumbler sloshed in alarm as leant forward to head off a further confession. He would love to hear some gossip about Illyan's previous romantic life, but not if there was the smallest chance it was about his mother.

"Illyan. Um, Uncle Simon..." Ivan's voice trailed off, and he gathered his courage. "Simon. Was there something else you wanted to talked about?" Even with the sparsest imaginable scattering of data-points, Ivan's data analysis skills spotted a pattern, that the pleasant gentlemen's drinking session had set the stage for something else Illyan was worried about, but didn't feel able to bring up without a socially acceptable excuse.

"Since I've been living with your mother, I've seen more of your friend Byerly." Ivan waved a hand vaguely, poised to refute any personal repsonsibility for the eccentric Vorrutyer, but recognised the inevitable futility. Simon continued, "When I still at ImpSec, I didn't see him much. Haroche handled the domestic affairs staff, though he did more on military and industry than the social side. His deputy did most of that. And he didn't really like colourful characters who didn't respect the chain of comamnd, even when they were successful. Maybe especially when they were successful. But he managed his department well. Maybe not as well in retrospect." Simon admitted.

"I saw the reports, Byerly had a string of successes, but not everyone appreciated how hard they worked, they saw his persona, and didn't make enough allowances for what was real and what wasn't. People thought he was unreliable. Even Haroche, who should have known better. Even me, I didn't doubt Haroche's reports. And he's never followed the rules well, but then, many of the best ImpSec agents haven't, see your cousin Miles."

Ivan grimaced at this allusion to his cousin, for whom "never followed the rules well" was seemingly his driving ambition and simultaneously a dangerous understatement.

"Ivan," Simon asked. "Do you remember By dragging you to Rutyer and Hargen's, the gentlemen's club?"

"Ah, that," said Ivan. "He was all fired up about something, but was close-lipped even for him. I got the impression it was some scandal, but way more high-level than even the usual stuff I hear By, and my family. From Miles, and my mother. And now from you, I guess."

Simon smiled at this temporary inclusion into family. "I can't easily tell you, it's classified even now, if much less urgent than it was at the time. But what actually happened in there?"

"ImpSec is asking me?" Ivan frantically waved off the responsibility. "Weren't there reports? Don't tell me that chauffer By dragged out wasn't an ImpSec man. Don't ImpSec always have a backup to the backup to the backup, watching?"

"Yes, but not always official. The driver stayed outside. We had a civilian informer, working in the kitchen in the club, that's how we tumbled to the problem in the first place, but he didn't have free run of the members areas, he didn't see anything useful. We do have a backup man -- you. But we didn't officially need to know, so none of us ever asked."

"Well..." Ivan began bringing up the recollection.

******

**Ivan's story. Several years earlier, before Memory.**

By and his temporary chauffer had picked up Ivan without asking, By talking Ivan into the car before Ivan was able to articulate a denial.

"It's a club, Ivan. I don't know why you're so reluctant."

"Because I have to work tomorrow. Early. And because you haven't told me what sort of club. And because you never take me out dancing with no politics, you descend on me and drag me into..."

"Look, it'll be easy. You come, have some fun. I'll tell you when the target is distracted, you slip into his office and find the papers."

"Are you joking, By?" Ivan howled. "You didn't say anything about a job!"

"I thought it was obvious. You said it yourself, I never ask you to just come dancing. I thought you knew that when you got in the car."

Ivan groaned. "I haven't said I'll actually help."

"It'll be great. You should know Rutyer and Hargen's anyway. There's no real risk for you, thank you again for helping me."

"You haven't thanked me a first time, you realise," Ivan pointed out. "Why me, anyway. He's clearly," Ivan nodded to the driver and touched his collar, mimicing ImpSec eyes. "Can't he do it?"

The driver maintained a deniable silence. By swatted down the plan. "There's a guest list. Invitation only, others emphatically not welcome."

"What about me, then?" asked Ivan. "I didn't know I was coming, I can't be on a guest list."

"Ah, Ivan, that's exactly it," drawled Byerly. "There's an unofficial list of people, a member might be interested to get to know, who will be welcome any time. I went to a public event, two days ago, and wangled an invitation back, not from who I'd hoped but..."

"What sort of club is this, again?" asked Ivan, openly suspicious.

"A private club. Sponsored by my oh-so-tedious cousin Richars, for gentlemen, and other interested parties... Exclusive, one more place for the upper Vor, and select other wealthy or interesting guests, to relax in the capital amongst like-minded people. To be themselves without being judged. In this case, people who have an alternative lifestyle in various ways. Gay, or bi, liasons are a tolerated eccentricity in the upper class, but are still taboo in society. Other lifestyles, sadism, bondage... "

"That maniac?" asked Ivan.

"Now, now, Ivan," chided By. "My cousin is a horrible, horrible human being. If he even rates that title... But he's kept R&H going, he skews towards the sadism, unsurprisingly. But it's a genuinely useful haven for people who don't fit into society's expectations. Anything other than marriage. It's a bit upper-class, but they do accept non-Vor, some of the members act as mentors to people who can't join a club like that."

"At a sex club?" asked Ivan dubiously.

"It's not just that. It's very discreet, mostly people in armchairs drinking expensive spirits. There are private rooms you can reserve, if you want that sort of thing. You know, socialise with people you don't have to hide from..."

Ivan glanced sideways at By. By's town clown act was constantly poised to make other people just slightly uncomfortable, and Ivan wondered how it made By feel that his feels were constantly judged. He wondered if By had grown up on Beta if, he'd have been as much in people's faces, or if he'd just have... normal. Somewhere between, he guessed. But maybe he was a bit jealous of this haven, where maybe he could have been at home, if he'd been a bit less down-at-heel, ostracised for almost the opposite reason for usual.

By continued, "It's not just men, you know. Mostly men, but women too. There's other outlets for women, they're fighting our society full-time whether they're at all divergent or not, but some go to Rutyer's. Do you think someone might invite you back to one of those private rooms?"

Ivan shook his head. He wasn't sure if By were thinking of someone specific, or just trawling at Ivan's notorious weak spot, but he knew it was bait. "And what is it you want me to actually do?"

By gave him a quick summary, confirming his driver was ImpSec up to his ears, even if he was a guard in civvies rather than a true agent. "Richars office is across the corridor from the main sitting room. I don't think it's usually locked. There's a small safe in the desk, the top drawer. I'm pretty sure it's in there. If not, even in ops you must know how to turn-down a room."

Ivan waved this show of faith away impatiently. "And what am I looking for?"

"Please, really do not look at it."

"But what actually is it? I have to know what I'm finding."

By sighed, and asked the driver to put on a music cartridge loudly. He leant close to Ivan, Ivan wincing away as his lips nearly tickled his ear, and continued in a low voice.

"Don't spread it around, even I'm not supposed to know for sure, but I asked around after I left Haroche's. As you say, you have to know what you're looking for. But I don't advise telling anyone, including your peripatetic cousin." Of course, even if By didn't know about the Dendarii Mercenaries as such, he probably picked up a little about what Miles did. "You remember, Commodore Jole, Aral Vorkosigan's protoge?"

Ivan just nodded, not trying to turn round so he could talk back to By.

"Well, one of Richars' hangers-on apparently inveigled Jole along. I don't know that Jole was into bondage, but Luc was. I think he'd once been in the orbit of my non-lamented cousin Ges Vorrutyer, beside whom even Richars pales."

Ivan turned sharply to whisper back to By. "And Jole had anything to do with him?"

"Well, that's the thing. Old gossip, anything can turn it around. Reading between the lines, I think Luc simply said that he'd had run-ins with Ges Vorrutyer, and been horrified, and eventually learned that he could embrace a galactic aspect to his sexuality without buying in to Ges's perversions. And of course, that confirmed all of Jole's prejudices, which were mostly right, of course."

"Jole never knew Ges, he was too young, but he hero-worshipped Aral and he'd have heard about Aral and Ges, and I think Jole mostly wants a nice man to settle down with, but on Barrayar that makes you a pariah. So when Luc showed him a door to acceptance, he swallowed it hole. And Luc never mentioned that Richars was a bit of a bastard too -- after all, his sadism isn't really sexual, he just hates people he doesn't have power over."

Ivan mulled this over worriedly. He didn't really want to hear this, but he wasn't sure he wanted to throw himself from a moving ground-car on this side of town either. Only a few years older than him, Perfect Jole, star of the service. But he hadn't heard any of this. "So I'm looking for... something to do with Jole?"

"Based on what I got out of ImpSec people, and their inside man in the club, Luc had a session with Jole in one of the private rooms. And Richars got tape of it."

"And that's it? Blackmail? But surely that wouldn't be worth that much. Other officers have affairs, even if it's taboo, it'd land on Richars as badly as Jole."

"No, there's something more, but I don't know what. I think Jole implicated someone else."

Ivan shrugged. "I guess it doesn't matter." He leaned forward to ask the driver to turn the music off again, but By stopped him with a hand on his arm. Ivan fished around for his next straight line. Which in retrospect was one he should have asked earlier. "And where will you be, while I'm ransacking Richars' office?"

By shuddered elegantly. "Distracting Richars. I wish I could hand that off to you, but... "

Ivan suddenly looked grim. "You told me Richars was a nasty piece of work."

By's eyes lost focus, staring into the middle distance, as he talked on autopilot. "I may have mentioned that I had my own run-in with him when I was younger. And my cousin Donna, you know, you used to spend time with her. Just about my only cousin I actually like. Well, she had a worse run-in a little later. Don't bring it up with her, for preference. Unless you have a reason to know."

By continued talking, his low monotone overruling Ivan's attempted interruption. "I'd hoped to avoid him. But when I was wrangling an invitation, he was right there, and came on strong, and I couldn't easily make time with anyone else. So I made an assignation for tonight and got out of there."

"Are you sure you want to do this, By?"

"Oh yes," said By. "It's the least a little faggot traitor like can do for the Imperium. Probably I won't have to do anything, just a few drinks. But if there's anything else, well, that's what I do, isn't it?"

Ivan's eyes went white. He'd got the idea of the sort of thing By did, but he hadn't faced it that starkly, he'd sort of assumed it involved making time with people who By liked. And By's last recitation of self-directed invective had the flavour of a direct quote.

He had no idea what to say. "That's from, uh, ImpSec?"

By nodded a fraction of an inch. "A direct order from Lucas Haroche."

"Fuck."

******

**Ivan and Simon continued.**

"And what happened?" Simon asked.

Ivan shrugged. "It was like he said. We got into the club no trouble. It was about like I imagined. A younger couple I knew slightly from Imperial Balls. A lot of older men who seemed to know each other. Some young, rich Vor dragged in on one of the long-standing member's coat-tails, looking for an thrill -- some, exploring. Some looking for men, some hoping to meet the sort of woman they imagine go to this sort of place."

"All very gentlemanly. Butlers, not serving girls, that sort of thing. You must have seen it at some point, it can't be secret from ImpSec."

Illyan shrugged. "I think I did, but I don't really remember." He smiled grimly at the younger man. "So it was probably how I imagined too."

Ivan hesitated. "Simon, that stuff By said..."

Illyan shook his head. "I never heard any of that. It must have been Haroche. He's not especially bigoted, you know. But he had absolutely no time for subordinates he thought should know better, he knew what to say to break someone."

"Aren't there recordings? Reports?" Ivan asked.

"No, not necessarily. If I remember right, Haroche's deputy, who By usually reported to, was away, so Haroche would have briefed him for an urgent mission personally. And the department heads offices are recorded, but it's wiped automatically if it's not transferred to a permanent record. Haroche's report simply said Byerly was insubordinate, but agreed to perform the mission as ordered."

Simon winced. "It sounds like By had a history with Richars. I didn't know that, and I can't imagine Haroche would either. I think By tried to get out of it, when he realised his only contact at the club was Richars himself. And Haroche ignored it and bulldozed him."

Ivan looked curiously at Simon. The ex-head of ImpSec could still put things together better than almost anyone, but was tentative, fragile, when he was pulling from his own memory from before his retirement.

"Do you know what the history was?" asked Simon.

"No," said Ivan. "I've heard hints, and some other nasty things about Richars since. It was fairly bad, but I haven't wanted to ask."

"I didn't think Richars was gay," said Simon.

Ivan shook his head. "I don't think it's like that. By said later, he thought Richars looked for victims. He liked power. Sex was just one way, it was secondary." He shrugged. "Or, maybe he was just evil, and his sexuality is irrelevant to that. Uncle Aral told Miles and me something like that once, when he was in one of his grim teaching moods."

"I wish I'd known that," Simon said. "I saw the reports, but I just left it to Haroche. That was a mistake."

Ivan thought of By's ambiguous relationship to the organisation that employed him. He leant forward, drunk's precision driving the words he never would have thought he'd have the courage to say. As he talked, Simon went very still. "Simon, you used to be like Haroche sometimes. Not a lot, but a little. Mostly we were scared of you because you were effective, and set a standard we couldn't live up to. But occasionally, we were scared of you because you could crush us mere mortals without noticing. There's a reason some of us stayed in ops, out of ImpSec."

Ivan saw a slight moisture on Simon's eyes and winced. "Simon. Uh, Uncle Simon. Oh god, I can't believe I'm talking to you like this. You're the legendary ImpSec chief who had eyes in the back of his head and single-handedly saved the empire. But I told you how By sounded, after Haroche gave him those little orders."

A few seconds later, the two men were exchanging awkward Barrayaran standard soldierly-friendship hugs around their tumblers.

"I wish you'd told me this earlier," said Simon.

Ivan shrugged again, embarrassed.

After a moment, Simon continued. "And did you get into Richars' office?"

Ivan relaxed, relieved to be back to history again. "Oh yes, it went easily. I circulated, I chatted politely. Richars came for By and they got drinks, all cozy. You'd never have known how By felt. As soon as Richars was occupied, I slipped out and ducked into his office, and it was just like By said. The safe was easy, but I kept getting it wrong, I was sweating if someone would walk in on me. But I got it done, and pocketed the stuff."

"And then, by the time I'd got back to the main sitting room, By and Richars had disappeared off to one of those private rooms. I imagined By cursing me for being slow, I wasn't sure quite what..."

"And what did you do?"

"None of this was in the report?"

"No. Haroche's next report just said, Agent Vorrutyer had fulfilled the mission successfully, despite his personal difficulties. Haroche must have been impressed in the end, though I fear there was another fraught conversation I never became privy to."

"Well," Ivan ducked his head, flushing red, but clearly quite proud of himself. "I played jilted lover. Who was to know different? By being By put the idea in my head, but it was quite fun. I've seen enough husbands do it, for that matter, and been close to it myself with one or two girls. I cried for By, he'd thrown me over, I'd forgive him, we were going home right then."

Ivan was glowing with pride at his acting abilities, and Simon was starting to laugh. "But your reputation, Ivan, you've always been known as the ladies man, weren't you worried about ruining that?"

Ivan shrugged. "It was fun at the time. I figured, anyone who saw me at Rutyer's and Hargen, it was half a sunk goal anyway. And anyway, I thought my reputation was pretty solid, if I ran around with a cute dandy one or twice, surely that couldn't repulse the ladies. And I didn't have long to think, once I'd started, I couldn't change horses midstream."

"And did you find him?"

"Oh yes. I bulled along the corridors, trying the doors of the private rooms. Some ushers rushed up to stop me, but they didn't want to throw me out, certainly not without Vorrutyer's say-so. And they moved to block me from one door, so that was cleary the one. I shouted, Richars came out, I continued the act."

"Richars didn't believe it, but there was no way to deny it, and I wiggled my way into the room. By was on a sofa, groggy, I think Richars drugged the drink. But I called him 'honey', and that snapped him out of it a bit, and I got his arm over my shoulders and walked us out of there. As I pushed past Richars in the doorway, By staggered against him, and I think nearly got him in the crotch with his knee, but he was too groggy to really connect. And then he kept trying to kiss me all the way outside."

He paused. "I think he forgot that bit. I didn't mention it again."

Simon smiled. "Well, that's a happy-ish ending that I'd hoped for."

Ivan hesitated, and then made another incautious sally. "And what was the thing with Jole. You must have known that?"

Simon raised his drink precisely, studied it for a second, seeming to decide, was he drunk enough to justify breaking a confidence on something he would like to get off his chest. He thought before he spoke, weighing what words he was justified in using. "I believe -- and I can't say that much more -- that under Luc's ministrations, he was encouraged to share a number of fantasies. One was an infatuation with his mentor, your Uncle Aral."

"But my Uncle's a well-known man, I don't like to imagine it, but surely there must be lots of people who think of him that way. An unrequited--" Ivan's brain, running slightly behind his mouth, suddenly slammed his lips shut a moment too late. He was already sitting down, but it felt like the chair dropped out from under him, crashing into the cushions, sobered with a jerk.

"Uncle Aral and Jole? But he's so..." So what? Ivan didn't want to finish that thought.

"You can see now why Haroche rode Byerly so hard. He didn't even know if it was true, but just the suggestion, he knew he needed to close it off then, not a ocuple of days later. And even if there was nothing to it, it was the perfect lever on Aral. Aral would stand up to any amount of pressure and threats, but if he felt he'd wronged someone, he would throw himself into the fire in exculpation. The word that Jole was in danger because of him, and he'd ride to the rescue like a white knight, the empire tumbling down around our ears in scandal."

"I knew I had to report to Aral, but I wanted to report it was all taken care of. I watched Lucas closely, but I trusted him to handle it. I thought I was being good, trusting my subordinates, but I trusted Haroche more than Vorrutyer, which was almost exactly wrong."

"Please don't tell anyone at all," pleaded Illyan. "Even now, the scandal, Aral is known for his scrupulous honor, if there was even a whiff of an affair, it wouldn't matter what he said, even what Cordelia said. And enough people remember Ges Vorrutyer, they'd see an affair with a man as much worse, for no good reason."

Ivan waved his hands. "I don't want to tell anyone. I don't want to know at all." But then, belying his denial, he asked "Was that when you found out?"

Simon shook his head. "No, years earlier, when it happened. ImpSec could hardly not know. When you and Miles were at the academy, and Cordelia was visiting her mother on Beta. I was terrified what she might do, duel Jole and cut his head off, maybe. Or duel Aral. I wasn't even sure if I should tell Gregor, he was still unconfident in his role. My duty was to him, but would knowing this help? I trusted your Uncle, but could I go on trusting him?"

"It settled down a bit since then, but still... It's one of a dozen secrets I've got up in my head still," he tapped his head, "even after I got that chip out. When it was first removed, I was so terrified I was going to let something slip to the wrong person. Now all the old secrets seem to be keeping themselves, and I don't dredge them up any more."

"But it's good for you to know. I think Jole might come back to Aral one day, if Cordelia's ready for it. Don't be as shocked as when your mother and I started seeing each other."

Ivan started to protest, and Simon waved it away. "It doesn't matter. It's good to talk."

Ivan thought for a second. "One more thing, how much of this does By know?"

"I dont' know. It certainly wasn't in his briefing at the time, but ImpSec people know they always need to know a little more. Probably about Jole, maybe not about Aral. He's certainly never hinted since, if he knows anything, he's sensibly discreet. Most of the time he's only pretending to be drunk, of course."

"And you never apologised?" Ivan asked.

Simon waved weakly. "The service, you can't really. If he didn't know how important it was, he probably didn't even know I was jogging Haroche's shoulder at the time."

Ivan leant forward intently. "But all you dutiful for-the-good-of-the-empire types are always telling me how important the people are to the imperium. This sort of thing, By can never trust ImpSec as much as he should." Well, maybe no-one should trust ImpSec. "Surely you can say something to him?"

"I don't know. I don't know if I can bring it up again after all this time. What would I say?"

Ivan considered his experience of unfortunate confessions. "Keep it simple, don't go through the history. Say, you found out that Haroche behaved illegally -- yes, don't sugar-coat it. And you apologise on behalf of ImpSec. Unofficially, of course, as you technically aren't any more. But everyone knows you're still ImpSec at heart, he'll take the message."

Simon blinked at this unexpectedly forceful advice coming from Ivan. "Well, I guess I will then. Next time I see him. But I wish I could make it up to him, in some way."

Ivan shrugged tipsily. "You can't, don't waste energy wishing. Don't forget, all the good you've done keeping corrupt people out of ImpSec the last sixty years. Haroche is gone, surely that's good for By at least. But, I wish you could do something about Richars. Can you call in a favour, have ImpSec fall on him?"

Simon's eyes lit up. "Not exactly. I swore off that sort of meddling. Even if it was something ethical and legal had I still been in charge. But Guy let slip, ImpSec's investigating Count Vorrutyer's fiance's death. I'd not realised until I dredged up the history about Richars. We don't know someone acting on his behalf orchestrated it. Even if it is, ImpSec may never be able to prove it, though I told Guy to do his utmost. But I can point By in the direction of a couple of the investigating agents, he can make sure they know where to start digging into his cousin, they may be able to make sure some of the fallout falls on him, or at least prime the ImpSec files with the dirt they suspect for the next time Richars steps out of line."

Ivan raised his glass. "To By kicking Richars in the balls."

Simon nodded formally. "To kicking Richars in the balls."


End file.
